


Angeli Caduti

by troppalajellyfish



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 18:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18580528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troppalajellyfish/pseuds/troppalajellyfish
Summary: Lucifer broke a rule of the angels: he killed a human. Now he must suffer the consequences. That starts with saying goodbye to a certain young human.





	Angeli Caduti

“Lucifer!” Before she got halfway to him, however, she froze. She edged backwards and grabbed her mother’s hand, still frozen at the door, key still in the lock. “Who are you?”

“Lucifer,” her mom whispered. “Please.”

“Mommy, that’s not Lucifer.”

“Of course it is, Trixie. What are you talking about?”

She looked up at the tall man that Wasn’t Lucifer and tilted her head. “Who are you?”

“Come, now. We’ve known each other for three years. What makes you say I’m not him?”

He knelt down to be on Trixie’s level, and her mom frowned. “Lucifer, this is inappropriate. You need to leave.”

But Trixie knew that whoever this man was, it Wasn’t Lucifer. He frowned and smiled a lot, didn’t greet her mother with a “Detective!”, his hair moved too much, and his eyes didn’t twinkle. Also, except that one time Lucifer had to watch her for all of twenty minutes between her mother’s shift and her father’s, he never looked at her like that. He tugged down his sleeve and twisted his watch. 

“If Lucifer wears a watch, it’s on a chair in his suit and goes into a pocket.” It was real gold, he had told Trixie at the precinct one day. She asked why he didn’t use his phone. 

“This suit doesn’t have a pocket for a watch.”

But ‘old habits die hard’ he had told her; that meant, he wasn’t used to using cell phones, or so Trixie thought. His house still had a landline and she loved using the rotary dial to call Grandma Penny.

He stood up and put a gentle hand on her upper back and steered her towards her room. “Can you go to your room for a little bit? I need to speak to your mother, Trixie.”

Suddenly, her face was pressed into her mother’s stomach, her fingers curling in Trixie’s hair, palm sweaty on the back of her neck. Her mother’s other hand was a tight band across her shoulders. “Who the hell are you?”

“Told you s’not Lucifer,” Trixie said, muffled into her mother’s shirt, little fists clutching at the back of her shirt. She Wasn’t Scared.

The door opened and closed, and Trixie stuck her head out of the safety of her mother’s cocoon and saw Maze walk in. “Lucifer.” She took a few steps towards the stairs before backing up two steps, standing between Not Lucifer and her and her mom.

“Not Lucifer,” Trixie said, now being pushed behind her mother. “He doesn’t have that scar on his chin, neither.”

“Why. Are you dressed as Lucifer, Michael? Who did you really think you’d fool? Obviously not these two, or me.”

“Not fool,” he said, with no accent, and Trixie realized that that had been wrong, too, even though she wasn’t sure how. “Simply-”

“Where’s Lucifer?” Even though she had stuck her head around her mother to try and look at the imposter, Maze blocked her view. 

“He had to go away for a while, young Beatrix. He has an eternity left to pay for his crimes, but the mess he has caused should be cleaned up in a mere seven to nine human years.” 

The one time Lucifer pretended to be her dad at that school, he had referred to her as ‘Beatrice’ and Trixie’s face said to never call her that again. She was so used to being called ‘spawn’ and ‘urchin’ and ‘child’ that anything else sounded wrong. And at least Lucifer got her full name right; this fake one couldn’t be bothered! And then she heard the rest of the sentence and tugged hard on her mother’s shirt, trying to get her to look down. “Years.” It was so soft. “But he didn’t say goodbye, Mommy.”

“Monkey”

“He promised.” After the time Lucifer ran away and married someone who wasn’t her mom, Trixie made him promise not to leave for so long without saying goodbye. Other adults made promises but they broke them all the time. Maze never made them, but the only promise that Lucifer had broken was because Mommy made him. And Mommy didn’t need to know that maybe once – okay, three whole times – Lucifer sat her on his lap in his super pretty car and let her drive; his hands weren’t even on the wheel! Sure, her legs weren’t long enough to work the petals – 

“Promises are made to be broken,” Not Lucifer said.

“Not Lucifer’s,” Trixie said, and tried not to sniff. She was nine. And, according to Lucifer, no one ‘had need of tears’. Something about a pesky design from his father, but most of what Lucifer said made little, or even no sense, to Trixie.

“Trix, if Lucifer promised you that, he broke it because he had no choice,” Maze said, in something akin to comfort. “Like Dumah, Raguel, and Gabriel.”   
“He didn’t even promise,” Trixie mumbled, wiping at her tears. She wasn’t ashamed she was crying, but there was no reason to, right now. “He said that his stupid ‘word’ was better than any ruddy promise.”

“So the Angel of Mercy is really going to make his brother break a word of honor.”

“I haven’t been the Angel of Mercy in millennia, Mazikeen; I am God’s Warrior. Samael should know not to give his word when he cannot keep it.”

“He wouldn’t have to break it,” Trixie said, struggling away from her mother, “if his stupid twin brother would let him say goodbye. Like he said he would.” She squeezed her eyes shut, real tight, trying to stop the tears, and a gentle breeze caressed her face. “Lucifer wouldn’t leave for years if he didn’t say goodbye first.” 

“Quite right, Spawn.” She opened her eyes, and there was Lucifer, but not her Lucifer. “What did I say about tears?”

“Tragic design.” She sniffed. “But it’s okay to cry when you’re sad.”

“Perhaps. But it is not okay to leak salt for me.”

“What is wrong with you, Lucifer? You look like when I spilled boiling water on my hand when I was trying to make hot chocolate.” But, like, all over. There were only a few spots on his chest that were tanned instead of shiny and red, and one spot across his nose and cheek. The other cheek had an even darker red scratch that was still oozing blood. “You got.” She swallowed, and the skin near his belly button was peeling and – and, boiling with a bubble? “Why are you burned?” Just above the top of his pants were numbers in a fancy writing – 666122 – that went around until she couldn’t see anymore. “What happened?”

And then –

And then he was her Lucifer, and she forgot all about his burns.

She threw herself at him, but was stopped by a hand that felt like stone on her chest.

“Don’t touch her!” tore from Maze’s lips in a snarl, spit flying at Not Lucifer.

“I cannot permit you to touch him,” Michael said, ignoring Maze, and hands were on her shoulders, pulling her backwards until she was in the safety of her mother’s arms. She didn’t feel that safe.

“Why not!”

“Because I did a dreadful deed, Spawn.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I was bad. Tell me. When you do something wrong, what does your mother do?”

“She tells me what I did was wrong and says not to do it again.”

“Not all of us have parents as forgiving as yours, Spawn. We’ve no one there to pick us up when we fall.” But that didn’t make sense, because Trixie never got in trouble for falling over? Her mother squeezed her shoulder tight, and then Trixie looked up as she let out a sob, clutching her hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Why was her mother so sad? “Continue.” Trixie looked back at Lucifer. “What else does she do? When you misbehave?”

“If I’m really bad, I can’t watch TV or use my tablet.”

“Ah. Precisely. My family knows how much humans mean to me, so they’ve taken them away. They know how much I like to dress myself so well, so they’ve given me white linen pants as a punishment.” 

“They’re grey.” They both looked down, at the burned, ragged hem sitting a few inches above his dirty feet, at the chains around his ankles. “And too short.”

“They were once white, I assure you. It is surely a torture to me, to be in such a filthy state.”

“But. You can fix it, right? You can – you can say, sorry?” When she was bad, that almost always made things right.

“It is not that easy.” He closed his eyes, briefly, and when he opened them, there were not-tears in his eyes. “I killed a human, and I am not sorry I did. And I will not lie and say that I am.”

“You killed a bad man.” Trixie knew because she had overheard her mom and dad when they were talking late last night. “And that’s okay, because he would have killed you. It’s called self defense.”

“That’s – that is not a thing where I’m from.”

“But we’re in LA?”

“I wish it were that simple.”

“But Pierce tried to kill my mommy, and you, so you killed him. And that’s okay.”

“Cain attempted to kill a mortal?” Trixie would have answered except she didn’t know who Cain was, and she didn’t exactly want to talk to Lucifer’s Evil Brother, twin or not. “No more stalling, Samael. Say goodbye to this little human so you can go back to where you belong. I should take Mazikeen with, is what I should do.”

“Don’t punish Mazikeen for my sins, Brother. Come closer, Spawn. Right there.” She stood where he pointed, and waited until the chains around his wrists stopped moving. Then he knelt on one knee, hunching even further to look her right in the eye. “I will do my best to come back as soon as I can. It may be nine years – or more – but I will be back.”

“Promise?”

“Take care of your mother for me, will you? She’s mad at me, right now, and scared of Maze, but you know we would never purposely hurt you.”

“She called me a brat,” she said, and pointed out, “and you didn’t promise.”

“It was inexcusable that she called you such a name. It doesn’t make it any easier, I understand that, but she called you it to your father whilst she was angry. Everyone says things they don’t mean when they’re angry. You know this.”

“I’ll take care of mom if you promise to come back.” 

“I promise to come back, I just can’t promise when.” She nodded; it would have to do. “You can always call to me, Spawn, and I will listen. I cannot guarantee that I will answer you, but I will always listen.” Lucifer was now close enough that she could tell he smelled like bad eggs, and something like thick dust fell from his hair as he moved. “Be not afraid.” She wanted, more than anything, to lean forward and hug her arms around his neck, but she couldn’t move. Instead, Lucifer’s warm, chapped lips pressed against her forehead in a sad kiss, and something even warmer fell down her cheek, like she was crying, but she wasn’t. “Tragic design flaw, indeed.” He stood up and spared a glance at Maze; something was swirling in her eyes? But they really weren’t tears, more like she was thinking really, really hard. “Take care of them.”

“Yes,” Maze whispered.

“Detective, Spawn; be well.”

In the blink of an eye, Michael and Lucifer were gone.

And in the deepest bowels of hell, Lucifer let loose a roar, and pulled at his chains, future uncertain.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading this. It was an idea that wouldn't leave me alone and I decided to share it.


End file.
